


Beneath a Moonless Sky

by CatyCoffeebean



Series: Fallen Angel Saga [2]
Category: Markiplier Egos, The Ipliers, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Canon Divergent, Drama & Romance, F/M, Female Protagonist, POV Male Character, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatyCoffeebean/pseuds/CatyCoffeebean
Summary: After the events of WKM, Dark is living with the other egos in Los Angeles, but the appearance of his former lover--you--who he had left in the manor throws things into chaos as Dark deals with the new, more strained relationship and as the former District Attorney comes to terms with the fact that her old college love, Damien, is no more. [Sequel to Fallen Angel]





	Beneath a Moonless Sky

**_How dare you come and claim me now,_ **

**_Invade my life, ensnare my voice…  
_ **

* * *

There was something incredibly satisfying in being free of that house. Darkiplier—Dark—was just one of many of the egos living in a multi-story house in Los Angeles, California. They were all sides, different facets of Mark—everything was quite difficult to explain, everything that Dark had known from the manor, everything that had once been part of Damien and Celine was gone, and Dark occasionally found himself reflecting on you.

Even now, the only one of the two remaining was Damien. Celine had all but been wiped out by the evil of the house, combined with the unquenchable rage Damien held within. Mark had taken Damien’s body, he had taken yours, and in a moment of thoughtless action, had kicked you out of your own body and taken control. Once he had left the house you had no way of freeing yourself—you had been damned to suffering alone.

The two of you had once been lovers, when Dark was still Damien. You had made love and Dark had been  _happy,_ as surprising as that was. Now, if anything, he usually felt quiet complacency, sometimes mixed with the rage he was attempting to suppress. Damien had begun going by Darkiplier after running into Mark, post-manor events, and it was fitting enough. He knew there was nothing  _good_ about him, he was just a demon now. Was there something wrong with wanting some shred of his previous life, even if only for his own selfish motives?

After all, you were essentially gone.

If there were some part of you that had survived, it was most likely that all of the goodness got sucked out of your soul, most likely that everything that Dark had loved about you was nothing more than a memory. He could hope, though,  _couldn’t he?_

You had also been pregnant. Or so his sister, the seer Celine, had confirmed when they were in the upside down after you had been shot. It had been an incredibly short-lived pregnancy; the child had not even had time to develop and grow before its life had been torn from it cruelly. Celine had been the only reason that either of them had even known.

It was useless dwelling on the past, however. Dark shook his head and looked down at his hands. They were gray, dull, almost colorless. It was part of why he hated this so much, wanted to get back into his own body instead of walking around in a body that was not his, that had never been his, and had only been his in  _one special way_ , and never would be again. Slamming his hand into his desk angrily, Dark closed his eyes, and he felt his shell split, Damien screaming out, flashes of red and blue flickering through the chaos.

“God dammit,” Dark murmured. As if to add to the almost mocking torture his own miserable life was putting him through, William lived in the same house as he and the other egos did, although he appeared to have some form of dissociative amnesia, as he only remembered selective things, and still referred to Dark as Damien quite often, though mainly he referred to him as Dark. 

The name of Damien was spoken only in private between the two. Dark allowed him, as some part of him almost pitied the man in a strange way—William had also taken the name “Wilford,” but to keep things simple, Dark addressed him as “Will.”

The egos had already had a meeting that day, and Dark was thankful that they had finished when they had. He had already been running low on patience, and Wilford had been acting up the whole time, leading to the meeting going over. Dark couldn’t even remember what the matter had been about, but his temper was quickly receding, and he found himself inhaling and exhaling slowly, forcing himself to calm down.

If any of the egos had been trying his patience lately, it was the newest additions to the bunch, two outlandish twins who called themselves both Jim. If Dark remembered correctly, he had seen them skulking around the manor in the aftermath of Mark’s murder, but they had all been much too worried at the time to pay it much heed. 

As Dark brought himself back to calmness, he looked at his nightstand. It was a simple black piece of furniture, and wistfully, he pushed down a frame that contained a photo of him when he was still fully Damien, and it was with you leaning against him happily, smiling brightly. Next to it were a few pictures of him when he was still Damien, except those were with the Colonel—Wilford, now, Dark had to correct himself.

Things were not how they had been, and they never would be again. He couldn’t forget that.

As his thoughts drifted to more recent times with Wilford, there was a knock at Dark’s door. Without thinking, he adjusted the collar of his suit and smoothed it down before placing his hands behind his back. Since losing his cane, he hadn’t had much of anything to channel his tense, excess energy into, so he put his hands behind his back and crossed them to diffuse his extra tension and to help maintain the façade he had of control—when he knew better than anyone that control was an illusion and he would have to manipulate others to get the control.

“Who is it?” he asked apathetically, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else than there.

“It’s me, Damien!” Wilford exclaimed, and Dark sighed. It wasn’t like he was about to correct the other man—it would almost be worse to shatter the illusion of sanity that the other man possessed, or rather, the illusion that he thought he possessed.

“Come in,” Dark murmured quietly, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, the frown that seemed to perpetually rest on his face. “What do you need?” he asked patiently. Unless it was something absolutely important, the egos knew not to bother Dark. Only Wilford had that permission, and even then, the only reason he could bother Dark at a whim was because the two had shared leadership over the other egos.

“I’ve found something you might want to see,” Wilford said, one finger coming up to twirl his bright pink mustache in a stereotypically tricky fashion. “Was out for a walk outside earlier and  _wham_ , got bumped into!” With a step to the side he revealed something Dark had not been expecting to see in a thousand years— _you_. “Remember her, Dark?” Wilford asked.

Dark’s voice was strained, and he surveyed the woman standing next to Wilford. Sure enough she had the same appearance as you, that challenging yet adorable expression he remembered, those strong willed eyes. “Will—how did you find her? This doesn’t even make sense. She—” He shook his head and bit his lip. If he said anything it could very well trigger Wilford. “Yes, I do.”

Wilford put a hand on your shoulder and pushed you forward, before closing the door quietly.

“Wait, Will—!” Dark started, but the other man had already left. Dark’s eyes darted to you, and you were looking up at him curiously. You didn’t seem to be influenced by the darkness of the house like he was, but he didn’t want to ask you about it. You spoke first, which he was a little surprised to hear.

“Damien?” you asked, and some part deep within Dark stirred in response. Your voice was just as inquisitive, just as curious, just as loving as it always had been. Maybe there was some hope that you could still contain that last shred of light he found himself yearning for.  Dark stepped forward and placed his hand on your shoulder, sliding his hand down your arm till their fingers were entwined.

“No, not Damien, my dear,” he murmured. “My name is Darkiplier, but you will just refer to me as Dark. But if you are wondering if I was Damien, yes, I was.” Your face fell, but then you forced yourself to smile a little in response, as if you were redacting your previous thoughts.

“Dark,” you replied, sampling how the name sounded, before nodding to nobody in particular. “I—I should probably explain how I got here,” you mumbled, and Dark looked at you with mild curiosity, saying nothing.

“Please do, love,” he said, and you felt shivers go down your spine at that statement, at the mere nickname. It was something Damien had never done before, but oddly enough you didn’t mind it. Inhaling, you began speaking.

“After you… kicked me out, I was stuck in the mirror. William left, I think. He just sort of disappeared out the back of the house and so it was just me. I have to confess that initially I panicked—I… I was just so  _angry_ at you,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes, and Dark drew you into his embrace. He understood that at least. You had good reason to be angry at him, though he knew he had his reasons for why he had done it.

“Continue your story, my dear,” he prompted, and with a sniffle, and your arms wrapped securely around Dark’s waist, you continued.

“Well, as I was saying, after I calmed down, I thought about things more clearly. I… I remembered Celine’s body was still there. Since she became part of…” You trailed off, not sure of what to say to Dark. 

You had the feeling it was just Damien in there now, that any trace of Celine that had been there was gone, but you weren’t sure, and you also weren’t sure what Dark would think of you if you said what was on your mind. “The body was still whole, still in good condition. So I took a little bit of time to figure out how the upside down worked, and then took over Celine’s body.”

Dark could only assume that you had also then sculpted the appearance of the body to meet your own, just like he had done with your body. He had to admit, he was impressed. While you were by no means weak or unresourceful, he had seen the panic in your eyes when he had cracked his neck and then left you screaming for him in the mirror.

Those moments walking away from her in the mirror and hearing you screaming that he “had promised they would come back together” were some of the worst of his life. Dark had told himself that things had to be sacrificed in his quest for revenge against Mark. However, even though he was different now, even though the Damien you had loved was gone, Dark knew there was still a part of him that cared for you and he wasn’t about to let you leave his side again now that he had you back.

“Love, what do you say to staying with us here?” Dark cooed, feathering his lips across yours possessively. You leaned into the kiss, entwining your fingers with his gray ones, and your lips parted under his as his tongue twined with yours. “I don’t want you to leave my side again,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss.

You grasped at Dark’s suit, the touch of your fingers as firm as a vise, and you let out the smallest of moans, which he quieted with a deeper kiss. “Will you stay?” he growled, fed up with not receiving an answer. Withdrawing from the kiss, your eyes met his.

“Yes I will. But on a few conditions.”

Dark perked up at that.

Things were getting interesting.


End file.
